


that gentle kiss

by ricepaperboi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22882816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricepaperboi/pseuds/ricepaperboi
Summary: Bucky grins as he toes the door closed behind them, whirling Sam around to push him back against it with a dull thud. Lip catch a gasp of surprise in a quick kiss. Sam pushes against him, hands pulling at coat sleeves and teeth clack in their rush.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	that gentle kiss

“We have to hurry, babe, the car will be here in a minute.” 

“Here-your tie. Help me find my cuff links? Tell me why I’m doing this again.” 

“It’s Steve’s award ceremony.”

“And?” A smile in reply to a warning look. “How many of these things have we sat through?” 

“Enough that they sent a car this time.” 

“Not a chance we’ve been as late as she says.”

“I found them. Come here.” Sam waits for Bucky to come close so he can attach the cuff links to shirtsleeves and looks at him through lowered lashes. “You recall last time we ended up being almost an hour late to your own ceremony.”

“Why leave home? I already had my reward.” Fingers hook into belt loops. Bucky pulls him closer until their waists are flush. A smile plays on his lips. “Besides, you know every time you put on a three piece it makes me all flustered.” Lips press kisses to the curve of Sam’s neck. Fingers go to undo vest buttons.

“There’s no reward for you today. The car will be here in a minute.” Sam pulls back slightly and tries not to smile. “Quit feeling me up.” 

Bucky drops to his knees as Sam turns to brush his hair in the mirror. “I can beg.” He grabs himself, makes a lewd moan and sticks out his tongue. “Oh, Sam, my mouth is so empty, won’t you fill it with your big, aching cock? Like that, right? Or do you prefer field style? Drop those pants so I can gag on that dick.” 

Sam snorts. He draws close and traces fingertips along the curve of Bucky’s jaw. “I hate to see you look a mess before a big event.” His thumb traces bottom lip. “And you know I hate when you rush me.” 

“You sure you don’t want a pregame blowjob?” Bucky kisses the calloused palm of Sam’s hand. “A fast fellatio? Just the tip?”

“You’re incorrigible.” Sam looks down at him, gently brushing strands of hair from Bucky’s face. Fingers curl to ghost knuckles along cheek. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“Hopefully fuck me senseless. I’m not picky on the details surrounding when, where, or how.” Bucky looks up at him wide-eyed and hopeful. “Come on, babe. We’ll barely be late. I’ll even tip the driver an extra hundred to wait.” 

Eyes go heavenward and Sam groans quietly. “On a scale of one to Tony’s Christmas party, how much am I going to regret this?” 

A grin threatens to split Bucky’s face. He puts his hands to either side of Sam’s waist and pushes him back against the wall. “I won’t wrinkle your pants too much.” 

“Comforting.” Sam leans heavily back against the wall, legs spread wide enough for Bucky to fit. “You started this pregame fast felletio. Let’s go, old man.” 

Bucky brings his hands up to undo Sam’s belt buckle. The clink of metal echoes in the silence. Bucky settles back to sit on his heels. His eye never leaves Sam’s as he slowly undoes his button then the zipper. Sam drags his tongue across his lower lip, breathing changes with anticipation. His hands hang at his side and make no move to help. 

“You know I hate when you tease,” Sam says softy. “I’m starting to want to rescind.”

Bucky nearly pouts. “You’re not making this any fun at all.” 

“My dick’s already out. I’m committed.” Sam makes as if to checking his watch.

Bucky rolls his eyes before he fixes Sam and rests his forehead against his crotch. “This is bullshit.” 

Hand rests on the crown of Bucky’s head. “You can sit through a couple hours of boring conversation for Steve. Just think of how much time we’ll have after.” 

“Haven’t I done my time?” Bucky breathes deep and can smell the pomade on Sam’s hands, the woody scent of cologne. He kisses the inside of Sam’s thigh and sighs at the way fingers scratch lightly along his scalp. “I hate ties more than Kevlar.” 

A hum. “They have their uses.” Sam smooths the hair back from Bucky’s face. “You didn’t hate them so much last Christmas.” 

“Keep reminding me about last Christmas and I’ll be rocking a hard on all night.” He hears the crunch of gravel as a car slows to a halt outside their home. “The car is early.” 

Sam laughs. “No, babe, we’re on time.”

* * *

“Well, look who showed up on time.” Natasha gives a low whistle as Sam and Bucky go to stand at either side of her at the bar. She sips at her champagne careful of her cherry red lipstick. She smirks behind the rim of her glass as her gaze falls to the wrinkled knees of Bucky’s trousers. “Hope you didn’t make the driver wait too long.” 

“He didn’t wait all actually.” Sam orders drinks for the both of them. “Bucky and I were on schedule.”

“If it’s not a mission then I don’t believe it.” She sips her champagne. “Your tie is crooked and Barnes is breathing fast.”

“It was an eventful elevator ride.” 

“You two are hopeless.” She leans against in the bar in her black cocktail dress and gestures with her chin toward the other end of the room. “Steve’s been swapping war stories again with some of the vets from DoD. He’s been signaling for me to get him out of it for the past five minutes.”

“Better him than us.” Sam knocks back his drink in one go. Lip curls up in a slight sneer. 

Bucky leans closer to Natasha. “He’s mad Colonel Thompson called him an ‘overzealous pigeon.’ He hasn’t recovered.” 

Sam scowls and knocks back Bucky’s drink as well.

“Relax, Falcon.” Natasha pushes away from the bar. “Looks like our patriot’s come back to us.” 

“Look who made it on time.” Steve jerks his head in a gesture of greeting as he gets close. “Didn’t think I’d see you two until at least midway through my speech.”

“You guys are way too invested in our time management,” Bucky says around a mouthful of cucumber sandwich. 

“Considering what happened at Tony’s Christmas--”

“Oh, look,” Sam interjects quickly as Bucky nearly chokes, “they got shrimp cocktails.”

* * *

Steve is halfway through his speech when Bucky drapes his arm around the back of Sam’s chair. He leans close, lips hardly more than an inch from Sam’s ear. He takes a breath to speak. 

“If you start talking dirty in the middle of Steve’s speech, I’ll dump my glass of ice water on your lap.” Sam turns to him and smiles in the low light. 

Bucky ghosts his finger along the back of Sam’s neck along his collar. “I was only going to say he used the same speech in the 40s. I was there.”

Eyebrow raises. “Was that all you were going to say?” 

A quiet hum. “Everyone’s concentrated on Captain Rogers so now would be the perfect time to sneak away.” 

Sam turns back to face Steve, smile lingering on his lips. “You’re worse than a teenager.” 

“Spend your time in and out of cryo, see how your hormones like it.” 

“You’re playing the cryo card at this function? Weak.”

Bucky shifts in his seat, eyes on Steve and his fingers still ghosting the back of Sam’s neck. “You’re right. I’ll just sit here and marvel at how the hell I got such a fly guy to sit next to me.” A beat. Brow furrows. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore about Thompson.” 

Sam sips his water ruefully, entire demeanor changing. “He’s an ass. Looking at him makes my fucking blood boil.” 

Bucky looks at Sam, notes the tension in his shoulders and the way his lips press in a thin line to keep from a sneer. “This isn’t about what he said is it?” Finger flicks Sam’s ear lightly. “Least, it’s not what he said about _you_.”

“He’s arrogant at best, a lying coward at worst.” Sam turns to Bucky again. His legs are crossed, foot bouncing with irritation. “He shouldn’t have said those things.” 

“People say shit in courtrooms all the time. A ‘brain damaged assault weapon without a safety’ is probably the nicest thing anyone’s said on the stand.” Bucky smiles. “It’s cute defensive you get about me though.” 

“If anyone’s going to talk shit about you it’s me.” 

“I prefer when you talk filth _to_ me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and tries not to smile. “I’m trying to watch Steve’s speech.”

A quiet snort. “Saw it in the 40s. Sure there’s a record somewhere. Besides, you know he hates it as much as we do.” 

“Are you really so bored?” 

“Give me a minute and I’ll start bouncing off the walls.” 

Sam pushes his chair closer. “Alright you dirty old man, give it your best shot.” 

To say Sam enjoys Bucky’s lewd and often graphic talk would be a stretch. It fazes him about as much as watching paint dry. Maybe it was because he was a combat medic; the first tour always cures any notion of purity. At most, Sam might chuckle at the mention of a rim job before a car wash but Bucky has yet to get him hard. 

Bucky drapes his arm over the back of Sam’s chair while metal fingertips ghost up and down his arm. “Do you remember a couple summers back when we all went to Bruce’s for that barbecue?” 

Sam shifts almost imperceptibly. 

“It was so hot and humid it felt like wading through water. Everyone’s inside playing Ratscrew and drinking cheap beers. You were standing by the window wearing that red polo.” 

Breath had quickened slightly. Sam looks at him from the corner of his eye. “When did you become a romantic?” 

Bucky gives him a small smile. “I’m doing my best.” 

The crowd gives a smattering of applause at some heartfelt honorable mention. 

“You wanted snacks from the convenience store, asked if anyone wanted to go. I still don’t know why I said yes. It was a miles down this dirt road and nothing but fields. I liked you so much,” Bucky whispers. “I didn’t want to say something stupid. But everyone else groaned and I wanted a minute to you all by myself.

“Holy hell, the car had no AC and all I could do was watch you sitting there with one arm hanging out the window, chewing the end of a straw while we listened to….Damn, who was it?”

Sam turns his head slightly towards Bucky, gaze fallen to the floor. A smile plays on his lips. “The Isley Brothers.”

Bucky exhales a quiet laugh. “That’s right. We barely said one word the whole day. At least, not until you launched a twinkie at my head and called it an MRE. You remember that day, don’t you, baby? Could you forget? Hot as hell. Air so thick you could barely breathe. The clouds were rolling in thick and you could smell the rain about to come in. And I was driving back when you pointed down this field and said you bet two cold beers and a whatever was in your pocket that you could beat me in a foot race to this old elm.”

“You let me win.” 

“You knew you couldn’t beat me.” 

Bucky raises his hand from the back of Sam’s seat to ghost fingertips alongside his neck. “It was about fifty yards to the tree. The grass was knee high . You took your shirt off and I could see the sweat between your shoulder blades.” Fingers traverses the shoulder cut of Sam’s suit, tracing the stitching. “Miles of dirt road in either direction and no one but me to witness Sam Wilson racing and hollering through a field of grass like a schoolboy under an August sun. As soon as you touched that tree and looked back at me with that smile, I know I was going to love you through hell or high water.”

“This really is a one-eighty,” Sam turns his head, cheek brushing against Bucky nose. “Got bored trying to seduce me?” 

Bucky pulls back slightly to look at his partner and say, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Sammy, I could look you every hour of every day and be content just knowing you still wanted me as much as you did then.”

Steve goes on about standing up in the face of opposition, doing what is right even when it is hard. All very good points that Bucky listens to with half an ear. His eyes are on Sam’s mouth, his lower lip caught between teeth. 

“It terrified me,” Bucky continues, “the thought of anyone touching me, but you...you were--you _are_ like a force of nature. All I thought about was how I could get you to smile at me like that again, if you would touch me next time you did. I remember the wind picked up and you could smell the jasmine underneath the rain.” A hum. “Did you know it’s going to rain tonight? How’s your shoulder, baby?”

Fingers brush against Sam’s shoulder blade above the suit where he knows the twisted circular scar to be. 

“I need...” Sam stands roughly to his feet before Bucky can say another word. Brow furrows and he moves out of reach. A few heads turn at the sound of his chair scraping the ground. 

A question on his tongue, Bucky watches Sam politely makes his way a couple tables down to kneel beside Natasha and whisper in her ear. She says something back, mouth hidden behind her hand as the crowd stands to applaud the conclusion of Steve’s speech. Bucky stands and adds his own smattering of applause. He faces Steve smiling as he comes away from the podium but he is watching Sam exit via a side door behind the buffet table. 

Bucky goes to follow only to be intercepted by Natasha. She smiles links her arm in his, smiling sweetly as she leads him back to her table. 

“What was that?” Bucky strains to look over his shoulder at the exit. “What did he say to you?” 

“You know he hates when you tease him in public.” She drums the satin covered tabletop with cherry colored nails. Lips twist slightly in a frown. “You rattled him.”

“I wasn’t even remotely dirty...maybe. I swear I thought he’d find it cheesy.”

She holds the stem of her glass carefully between her fingers. “Bullshit.” 

Nose wrinkles. “Is this an apology moment?”

She hums around a sip of champagne. “No. He just needed some air.” 

“Should I go get him?”

“And your coats.” She glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Oh, please. I got your driver ready as soon as I saw his face. Besides, I prefer a room of murderous AI than any formal occasion with all three of you. Just promise me you’ll be on time tomorrow.”

“Miss kicking Sam _and_ your ass in yet another annual sharpshooter competition? Not a chance.” Bucky stands with a grin. “I’ll see Steve before we go. Spokoynoy nochi, Natasha.” 

She lifts her chin and smiles at him. “Goodnight, Barnes.” 

Bucky finds Sam outside. Hands are tucked in the pockets of carefully pressed pants, shoulders hunched against a light wind. He stares out into the street and its blur of lights. People weave in and out of each other’s way. He nods a thanks when Bucky hands him his coat. 

“Have you been out here this whole time?” 

Sam shakes his head. His gaze is stuck on the movement of traffic. 

“You ran out on me.” 

“I needed a minute.” Sam looks at Bucky from the corner of his eye. “When the hell did you get romantic?” 

A small shrug. A sardonic smirk plays on the soldier’s lips. “I figured I’d add an extra layer of foreplay.” 

Sam snorts. 

Bucky jerks his thumb toward the door, brow knit in question. “You want to head back up? Or we can sneak down to the kitchen and see how many finger sandwiches we can eat before we get caught.” 

Nose wrinkles and Sam tries not to smile. He looks out at the people across the street, going in and out of shops and carrying on with the same things in different ways. 

“No,” he says. “I just want to go home.” 

“We can do that, too.” Bucky reaches over and tugs gently at Sam’s coat sleeve. “You ok? Was it something I said? Well, I mean it usually is but geez, babe, you’re not usually this quiet and I don’t really know what I should say. Is this an apology moment? ‘Cause I know you hate when I talk dirty in public and I was just trying to be cheesy but if--”

“It wasn’t what you said. Well, it was but not really.” Sam lifts his chin and exhales a thin cloud. “It’s been a long day.”

Behind them, a few people are beginning to filter out for an intermittent smoke break. Bucky recognizes them from other donor parties and social functions, expensive people in expensive clothes talking about expensive contracts. It bores him more than anything. Bucky looks at Sam and knows he cannot help but think of the desert and all the things he tried but could not leave there. He knows Sam is suffocating in that suit just as much if not more. 

“It’s a long ride back,” Bucky says as he nudges the other gently. “You ready to go?” 

Sam hooks a finger in the knot of his tie to loosen it. “Fuck yes.”

The ride back is quiet. Heavily tinted divider closed and the radio plays some jazz and blues station. Low trumpet sounds undercut by the spin of tires against gravel. Sam stares out the window at the blur of streetlamps, hand half curled in a fist beneath his chin. Bucky watches him, watches the streaks of light move across the airman’s face. Metal hand slides across patent leather seats to butt against Sam’s. The airman turns slightly, gaze unfocused. Sam’s hand moves to intertwine their fingers. Bucky scoots closer to hold Sam’s hand in both of his, savoring the warmth.

“No more dirty talk?” Sam muses without taking his eyes from the outside. 

Bucky sinks low in his seat and rests his head on the other’s shoulder. They ride in an easy silence, listening to a quietly moaning trumpet intermittently interrupted by a smooth voice stating traffic and weather in a calm, husky drone. 

“I want you more.” 

A hum wells in Bucky’s chest in question. Eyes are half mast staring at the little neon numbers on the radio. 

Sam’s thumb brushes the inside of Bucky’s hand, over the heavy calluses of his palm. “You said you’d be happy knowing I wanted you as much as before, back to the first time…” 

Bucky hums again in remembrance.

Sam gives his hand a brief squeeze. “I want you more. I want you differently.” 

Face begins to warm and Bucky is glad for the dim interior as the blush creeps from the roots of his hair down beneath his collar. “If you want to try some kinky shit all you had to do is ask,” he grumbles.

Sam kisses the crown of his head before he turns to look back out the window. 

The sky opens up to a light rain just as soon as they step out of the car. Sam turns up the collar of his coat as a lazy wind runs through them. Mouth twists in a small frown as he watches the back lights of their town car get smaller. 

“You know, it’s more romantic to get dropped off at your front steps.”

Bucky lifts his chin and grins. “It’s barely a drizzle and the house is right there. Besides, I wanted a few more minutes to enjoy you in these clothes before I get to help you out of ‘em.” 

Eyes roll. “God--you’re restless today.” 

“And you’ve been somewhere else.” Bucky nudges him gently. “You want to tell me where?” He barely dodges a ball tap.

“Been thinking about that blowjob you promised me,” Sam jokes halfheartedly.

Keys jingle as Bucky pulls them from his pocket. He can feel his hair begin to heavy with rain as they walk up their driveway. “Deflection by way of sex is not your strong suite, babe.” Footsteps echo up the concrete steps. Keys scrape into the lock. He looks at Sam. “You want to talk about it?” 

Sam leans against the doorframe as the door swings inward but makes no move. “You want to talk or fuck?” 

Bucky inclines his head and gives him a look. “I’m sure we can multitask.” 

Sam pulls Bucky closer by the lapels of his coat. A faint smile plays on his lips. “But I don’t want to.”

No sooner does the door open then the airman closes the distance between them, hands going to the soldier’s waist to pull him along over the threshold. Bucky grins as he toes the door closed behind them, whirling Sam around to push him back against it with a dull thud. Lip catch a gasp of surprise in a quick kiss. Sam pushes against him, hands pulling at coat sleeves and teeth clack in their rush.

Coats and shoes trail through the foyer, suit jackets are tossed onto the dining room table, ties onto chairs. Cuff links are tossed onto the coffee table and buttons pop and hit the ground with a handful of merry clacks against the wood. Mouthy kisses swallow quiet laughs and noises of discomfort. 

Bucky is a step below on the stairway. His hands ghost along Sam’s skin, helping him out of his shirt and he presses kisses to Sam’s collarbone, his sternum. Sam’s fingers run through his hair. 

“Bucky, you top.” 

Lips linger in a kiss along the line of Sam’s hip. “You sure?” 

“Either you top or I listen to you workout at three in the morning.” Sam drags his tongue across his lower lip as he helps Bucky out of his shirt. “I call this a win-win. Just...go easy this time.” 

Bucky steps up, presses against Sam as he pushes him back against the wall. He is heady with the scent of him, the cologne and the champagne taste that lingers on his tongue. Mouth finds a soft spot on the curve of Sam’s neck to suck and nip enough to leave a mark easy enough to be hidden under a collar. The silence is undercut by the clinking sounds of belt buckles. Sam grinds his hips against Bucky’s, his hand delving beneath undone pants to slowly stoke his dick.

Bucky pulls back. Pants tumble down stairs. He sinks to his knees to play lightly at Sam’s balls with his tongue. His hands ghosting up and down his thighs.

“Turn around.”

Sam braces himself against the wall, legs spread between steps and waiting. Bucky settles his weight. He massages Sam’s thighs and his ass as he lets the saliva pool in his mouth for a moment. 

A breathed cursed escapes Sam as Bucky dives right in, licking up and down the crack of his ass in broad strokes. He bites back a moan against an exploratory tongue. Bucky muffles a chuckle between cheeks as Sam shudders, hands braced against the wall. Then he pulls back to give the airman’s ass a resounding smack. 

“Upstairs.” 

Sam wiggles is butt in Bucky’s face. “Kiss my ass.” He laughs when Bucky obliges and turns to kiss him. 

Breath is slow and heavy as bodies are pushed up against the wall, against each other. Lips presses kisses anywhere they can. They linger over scars--the thick and ropey, thin and barely seen, the ones where the knife came too close or Kevlar didn’t stop the bullet, the surgery scars, the ones they only know by memory. Kisses go to palms, to brow, to insides of thighs. 

Sam goes to the middle of the bed as Bucky grabs lube from out the nightstand. Viscous liquid is pooled into metal palm. Legs spread and Bucky’s dick twitches with anticipation, watching with open enthusiasm as Sam begins to play with his his spit-slick hole. Thumbs smears the lube across his fingers to make bowing spiderwebs of slick. He covers his dick in a few quick quick jerks. 

“You sure?” Bucky asks, perched on the edge of the bed. Slick fingers are poised a hairbreadth from the other’s hole. 

Sam draws an arm back to pillow his head. “Relax, old man. You’re not gonna break me.” 

“You’re _sure_?”

Sam looks at him tenderly. “I didn’t take a long shower for nothing.”  
Middle finger slides easily into Sam’s waiting hole. He hardly waits to ease in another, Sam’s head turning, brow furrowing as he applies pressure with the pads.

“Jesus, Buchanan,” Sam growls in frustration as fingers apply even pressure as they spread him open in agonizing degrees of slowness. “Hurry up and fuck me already.” 

Bucky sits back on his heels to look at Sam dressed in nothing but his thin gold chain with its small gold cross and snorts. “You’re so demanding when you bottom.” Residue is wiped on the side of the bed and positions himself thigh flush against the back of Sam’s.

Sam strokes himself as Bucky pushes slowly into him, tongue dragging across his lips, teeth scraping along the lower. An occasional soft sigh of pleasure escapes Sam as Bucky thrusts into him, slowly picking up the pace. The gold chain of his necklace gets held absentmindedly between teeth. 

A strained exhale escapes Bucky as he slips out. He moves to stand and gestures for Sam to get closer. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Sam does as Bucky commands, the soldier hooking his arms beneath his knees to suspend Sam in midair. 

“Really going for gold today.” Sam smooths Bucky’s hair back from his face “Don’t go anywhere.” 

Bucky puts a kiss to his jaw. “I’m right here.” Another goes to his shoulder as Bucky sinks back into him.

He is beginning to slip. Skin warms and beads of sweat collect and roll down the bare planes of his back. Bucky is losing himself in the rhythm of their fucking, of Sam’s breath coming hard and fast against his ear. His own breath slows, his heartbeat a steady drum in his ears. 

“What’s my name?” 

Skin is slick with sweat. Heartbeat is pounding.

“Bucky, you’re drifting.” Sam’s breath hitches . Fingers are buried in sweat dampened hair but does not yet make a move for Bucky to stop. “What’s my name?” he asks again. 

Brow furrows. He buries his face against skin flush with heat. “S-Sam.” Eyes squeeze shut. “Sam Wilson.” 

“Bucky--” Breath hitches. Sam moans as Bucky continues to thrust hard and deep into him. He gives sweat slick bicep a quick squeeze. “Ease up there, soldier.” 

A soft grunt sounds as Bucky slips out and nearly drops the airman onto the bed. 

Sam catches his arm. “I’m good if you are.” 

Bucky nods once, enthusiastically, and lets Sam pull him onto the bed, the airman going to straddle him. Hand presses to Bucky’s sternum, fingers splayed along his chest. “You with me?” 

Tongue runs across his lip, tasting sweat. Bucky props himself up on an elbow and nods. Sam keeps one hand on his chest as he rides him. Hips rock slowly. Bucky’s breathing stumbles. He says the other’s name. Prayer like. Muscles tense and tremble. Bucky bites his lip as he watches Sam bounce on his dick, bathed in the soft glow of hallway lights, thin gold chain once more caught between teeth. He catches Bucky’s eye and winks   
Bucky wraps an arm around Sam’s waist and turns them so he looms over the airman, hardly missing a stroke. He kisses him, hips moving slowly. 

He buries into Sam slowly. Teeth clench as pressure seems to work down his back, his hips. 

“Come for me,” Sam commands softly, almost desparately. He is grippingBucky’s forearms. Brow furrows as he is pushed to the edge of his own orgasm. 

The muscles of Bucky’s jaw ticks as he buries himself fully into Sam. An earthquake tremble works its way down each and every vertebrae. Skin is too sensitive, yet too numb. Everything is too much and not enough. With a sigh, Bucky spills into Sam. 

Sam hums, squirming, caught on the verge of his orgasm and left under stimulated. 

Dick slips out with a soft grunt and Bucky’s mouth goes to trail kisses down the other’s chest, to his thighs. He licks broad strokes up and down Sam’s cock. Tongue flattens and throat relaxes. Bucky hums in satisfaction as Sam gives a few short thrusts into his mouth and semen hits the back of his throat. Warm, near bitter viscous fluids sliding down his throat as he sucks down every bit that he can. A shiver of delight passes through him at the sound of his name run in a growl through clenched teeth. 

Bucky lifts his head, thin trails of saliva connectig his mouth to Sam’s dick. Tongue eagerly laps up sweat and semen. Fingers brush back sweat heavy strands of hair clung to brow and cheeks. 

“Kiss me,” Sam orders. 

Bucky complies. He hums against the exploratory tongue shifting through the globs of come stuck to teeth and beneath his own tongue. They settle against one another for awhile, breathing slow and steady, fingertips ghosting over skin.

“Don’t move,” Bucky says as Sam begins to squirm in the unease of his stickiness. He hops out of bed to the bathroom for a spit bath and to reemerge with a damp cloth. He scoots up close to Sam and helps him clean off. 

“When I was drifting?” Bucky asks as cloth passes over the other’s arm and the beginnings of a bruise. 

A gentle hum of confirmation. Mouth twists in a mix of frustration and guilt.

“It’s just a bruise,” Sam says, eyes fluttering at half mast, “You know I don’t mind.”

Eyes flick to a soft gaze and back to battle scars. “I do.” 

“That’s ‘cause you’re too hard on yourself.” Sam rubs wearily at his eyes.

Bucky snorts. “Maybe I just didn’t want to hear you complain about it tomorrow when I whoop your ass.” 

“Wouldn’t be hard.” Sam stretches languidly. “I’m not competing.” 

“Samuel ‘I eat competition for breakfast’ Wilson, isn’t competing in interoffice competition?” Bucky tosses the used cloth across the room into the laundry basket. “I don’t believe it. Who’s going to help edge out the hacks at the bureau from the top three ?” 

Slight shrug. “You guys can survive holding the top two.” 

Gun callous palm goes to the airman’s forehead. “Are you feeling ok? Should I take you to the hospital? Have you been replaced with a clone? Blink twice if you’ve been possessed.” Bucky laughs as he dodges the finger Sam tries to jab against his side. “Seriously, Sam, you never miss out on a chance for evals, you masochist. What’s going on?” 

Sam, laid out on the bed and bathed in a soft illumination and post-coital glow, hums and says, “I only like competing when it gets you to look at me.”


End file.
